


Nine Lives

by withthekeyisking



Series: Dick Rare Pair Challenge [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bartender Dick Grayson, Butt Plugs, Cock Warming, Creampie, Creepy Roman Sionis, Dubious Consent, M/M, No editing we die like mne, Roman is still a mobster, Sexual Coercion, Verbal Humiliation, but Dick is just a regular dude, no capes AU, wrote this in one sitting don't expect a masterpiece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthekeyisking/pseuds/withthekeyisking
Summary: When Dick took the job bartending at Mávri Máska, it was because he was strapped for cash and absolutely refused to ask Bruce for help. It was supposed to be a short-term gig, just until he could find something more suited to himself, but it turns out that when you're an attractive twenty-two-year-old with a charming smile, you make pretty good tips.The only downside is the...attentionfrom the owner.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Roman Sionis
Series: Dick Rare Pair Challenge [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836145
Comments: 42
Kudos: 234
Collections: Dick Grayson Rare Pair Challenge





	Nine Lives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Whispering_Imp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whispering_Imp/gifts).



> Imp I could not in good conscious get myself to write a coffee shop AU, but the idea of Dick working at a bar Roman owns was directly inspired by the coffee shop prompt you gave me, so I hope you like this in its place!

Dick smiles at the woman as he passes over her drink, and she grins drunkenly back at him, reaching out to stick a few bills in the tip jar. He offers her a wink and somehow her grin gets bigger, and then she's gone, her friend pulling her off back towards the dance floor.

Dick glances down at the tip jar and feels a rush of satisfaction when he catches sight of the _2-0_ proclaiming how much she tipped him for one six-dollar fruity drink.

Friday nights are always the best, filled with people excited that the weekend has arrived and they can let loose after a stressful week. Dick's lucky in the regard that his schedule tends to have him working Friday or at least Saturday nights; it always means the best tips.

A glance at the clock, however, shows him that his shift's almost up; Damian has a competition at school tomorrow and it starts at an ungodly hour, which means Dick can't stay up until four in the morning to shut the bar down like he normally would.

Midnight hits and Dick passes off the next costomer calling for his attention to one of the other bartenders, and then slips out. He heads down the hall towards the staff room, bass still thudding in his ears, and rakes a hand through his hair, trying to push it into some form of order; while Friday nights mean lots of tips, they also mean lots of action, and Dick has been in non-stop motion for the past six hours.

Dick collapses onto one of the couches in the staff room with a groan, rubbing the back of his neck and then wincing when he hits a knot that elicits a spark of pain. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks it for the first time in hours, scrolling through the few random notifications from various social media platforms and then dismissing the text from Bruce, as if he could possibly need a reminder of Damian's event tomorrow.

 _He_ is not the one with a history of missing things important to his children.

With a grunt, he forces himself back to his feet, heading over to his locker and punching in the code. He's only just begun to reach inside for his jacket when someone steps into the room, rapping their knuckles on the doorjamb.

Dick glances over and sees Tony, his boss. Tony is an overall decent guy; he never cheats any of the bartenders or servers out of tips they earned, never tattles on them to the owner when something comes up and someone misses a shift—sure, Tony isn't exactly _clean,_ but Dick will take dirty and nice over clean and rude any day.

Besides, considering where he works, he really can't complain about the morality of those he works with. He knew what this place was when he applied.

"What's up?" Dick asks, because it's clear Tony is looking to talk to him. "I told you I could only work half a shift tonight, right? Shit, did I forget to—"

"Dick, relax," Tony says good-naturedly. "You told me a couple weeks ago, you're good. But uh, before you can go..." Something guilty flashes across Tony's expression. "Boss wanted to see you, before you left. Said something about going over inventory..."

Dick goes still.

Tony's tone shows that he's well aware of how bullshit that reasoning is, that it's a weak lie thrown out by their boss, a flimsy excuse to get Dick to go back to his office. This isn't the first time Tony's acted as a go-between, and it won't be the last. Neither of them have any say in the matter.

"Right," Dick says softly. He takes his hand off his jacket and closes his locker, turning to face the door. Tony's lips are pressed into a thin line, his displeasure suppressed but still obvious.

It's another reason Dick likes Tony; the guy takes no pleasure out of Dick's pain. He could easily be an asshole, easily take advantage the same way their boss does or at the very least make fun, but he doesn't. He feels guilty for his part in it. And considering how awful this entire situation is, Dick will take whatever kindness he can get.

As Dick passes Tony out into the hall he offers the older man a brief smile, showing him he doesn't blame him, and then heads down the hall towards the main office.

In the eight months he's worked here, he's made this trek quite a few times. He'd like to say he's used to it by now, but...

Well, maybe he is used to it. It's familiar, at the very least. Doesn't mean he likes it.

He pauses outside the double doors, taking a few deep breaths and readying himself before raising his hand to knock.

A few seconds go by and then a voice from inside calls out, "Come in."

Dick squares his shoulders and turns the handle, pushing the door open and striding inside.

Roman Sionis is sitting behind his desk, attention half on his laptop and half on whatever he's currently writing down. He looks up when the door opens though, and smirks when he identifies who it is, putting down the pen in his hand and leaning back in his chair.

"Mr. Grayson, thank you for joining me," Sionis says. He folds his hands on the desk and his eyes drag up and down Dick's body in an entirely unsubtle fashion.

"Mr. Sionis," Dick greets in return, and closes the door behind himself despite how he really doesn't want to.

"Come in, sit down," Sionis says, gesturing towards the seat across from him.

Dick almost wishes Sionis wouldn't bother with the pretense; they both know why he's here, what Sionis wants from him. Making small talk beforehand isn't going to make any of this feel less dirty. And it's not like _Roman Sionis_ is one to shy away from the dirty, considering who he truly is, so Dick doesn't understand the veneer of pleasantness.

Maybe it's because he knows it makes Dick uncomfortable, and that's why he does it. He sure does like causing Dick discomfort.

Whatever the reason, Dick does as he's told, entering the room and sitting down in the hard-backed chair in front of Sionis' desk. The man stands as he does so, moving over to the wet bar set up against one wall of the office.

"Can I offer you a drink?" he says as he pours out two tumblers of something expensive, rendering his question moot.

Nonetheless, Dick tries to say, "No, thank you, I don't—"

"Drink, right, I remember," Sionis says, chuckling under his breath. He comes over and holds out the glass to Dick anyway, eyebrows raised expectantly, and Dick takes it without a word.

"So odd," Sionis continues, taking a sip from his tumbler, sharp eyes locked onto Dick over the rim.

"What is?"

"That you don't drink," Sionis says. "You work in a bar, after all."

"That's why I don't drink," Dick replies dryly. "When you spend a majority of your time around drunk people, it kind of ruins any of the appeal."

Sionis hums thoughtfully. He hasn't stepped back at all, so he's only arm's length away. Less than, really. Isn't showing any signs of planning on moving away any time soon. Not that Dick expects him to; he knows why he's here, after all. Dick wishes the man would just get it over with already. Dick really does need to get some sleep; the only thing that's going to keep him from Damian's event in the morning is an asteroid destroying the Earth.

After a few _long_ moments of Sionis just _watching_ Dick, the man finally steps closer, close enough that Dick can feel the warmth of him through their shirts.

Sionis sets his glass down on the desk and then reaches up to stroke his fingers through Dick's hair. He takes a handful—firm, but not painful, not yet—and uses it to tilt Dick's head back, neck arching. His other hand wraps around where Dick is currently still gripping his own glass, and then guides the glass up to Dick's mouth.

"Open up," Sionis murmurs.

Dick takes a slow breath in through his nose before allowing his lips to part. Sionis takes advantage immediately, tipping the glass up to pour some of the alcohol into Dick's mouth. Dick can identify the taste as whiskey, but that's where his knowledge dies out, and he has to suppress a wince as he swallows, the liquid burning as it goes down.

He sees Sionis' eyes slide down to his throat, watching as his Adam's apple bobs. He wonders if that's all Sionis is going to want out of him tonight; he hopes so. Leaving is far easier if he's simply on his knees.

When the glass is empty, Sionis takes it from his hand and places it next to his still-full one on the desk, but he doesn't release Dick's hair. Dick can feel the effects of the alcohol already, a tingly sensation in his chest and light-headedness hitting him; the unfortunate side effect of not drinking is that he's pretty much a light weight.

Sionis leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to his lips, tongue sliding into Dick's mouth. Dick holds still under the attention, hands fidgeting in his lap.

He really would just like to go home.

Eventually the kiss ends, Sionis pulling back, taking Dick's bottom lip between his teeth before he does so. The man hums, giving Dick a considering look, and finally releases his hair, hand instead sliding down to cup the nape of Dick's neck. Sionis pulls, and Dick moves with it, allowing himself to be maneuvered to his feet.

"Bend over for me, baby," Sionis says, but much like when he asked if Dick wanted a drink he doesn't wait for Dick's response, instead bending him over the desk himself.

Dick grunts as his chest hits the wood, and he folds his arms, pillowing his spinning head on them.

Sionis wastes no time, popping open the button and zipper of Dick's jeans and then yanking them and his underwear down his hips. His hands are cold when he squeezes Dick's ass.

"Still the best ass in the place," Sionis tells him. "And trust me, I see a lot of it, running this joint. So many half-dressed whores grinding against each other, begging to be noticed. But you'll always win, sweetheart."

Dick works very hard to not say aloud, _What do I have to do to lose? And can I try it right now?_

The click of a cap opening, the squelch of gel being squeezed out, and then Sionis is shoving a finger inside of him.

Dick hisses, eyes slamming shut, and tries to adjust to the intrusion despite Sionis doing his best to make that a challenge, fucking his finger in and out at a fast, rough pace.

He doesn't get any softer when he inserts a second finger, scissoring them open with little care for Dick's comfort, but he _does_ start searching in a familiar way; after all, this is only half as fun for him if he doesn't force an orgasm out of his unwilling partner.

Dick had been working at Mávri Máska for about a month when he was first called into Sionis' office. The man had started with a few polite questions about how he was liking it here, how he was getting along with the other workers, how his work schedule fit with the other aspects of his life.

And then, when Dick had managed to find some amount of calm in that meeting—because chatting with a mobster can be a rather anxiety-producing event—Sionis had stepped up behind him and put his hands on his shoulders and then...

Well. And then.

He'd left that meeting shaking and in pain and barely holding back tears, and one of the waitresses rubbed his back as he vomited in the toilet and then called him a cab with a sympathetic—and _knowing_ —look on her face.

By now, he's...used to it. As long as Sionis gets what he wants from him every once in a while, then Dick gets to keep his job and not get blacklisted from all the other bars and clubs in the city, something Sionis could very easily make happen. As long as Dick plays ball, everyone goes home happy.

Of course, _happy_ is a relative term, but Dick goes back to an apartment he can afford without Bruce's help and still has money left over to live without being overly worried about paying for things, so he's going to count that as happy as he's going to get with his current job.

Sionis finds what he's looking for and Dick breathes out a moan, toes curling in his shoes. Sionis seems to take that as permission to push in a third finger and then assault Dick's prostate, thrusting his fingers against it again and again in a rhythm that is half-pain and half-pleasure.

A louder moan and Sionis removes his fingers entirely, and Dick does his best to brace himself before Sionis is pushing himself inside. Two large, calloused hands clamp onto his hips and pull them up, making the angle better for the other man.

And then he's off, fucking into Dick with brutal thrusts that punch the breath out of Dick on each one. Dick grips the edge of the desk just for something to ground him, and tries to relax, to just let Sionis do what he wants.

He hates the fact that he's getting hard, that despite the fact that Sionis really is just using him for his own pleasure, it still feels _good_ under the brutality, the drag of Sionis' large cock inside of him sending pleasured sparks up and down his spine. The alcohol isn't helping matters, making it far easier to sink into what feels good instead of what's actually happening to him.

"Still just as tight as you were that first day," Sionis grunts, hips snapping forward, hands pulling Dick back to meet him. "With how many people must fuck you every day you'd think you'd get looser."

He laughs, a breathy noise, and continues with, "How long would it take, do you think? If I tied you up right here, just like this, and then let all my men line up to use you, how long would it take for your whore ass to loosen up?"

Dick is eighty percent sure that Sionis wouldn't do that. Which is not _nearly_ as close to one-hundred as he would like.

"What do you think of that idea, baby?" Sionis asks, voice turning into a low goad as he drapes himself over Dick's back, lips pressing against the shell of his ear. "It could be a new feature of the bar; a backroom with you strapped to a fucking table. People would pay top dollar to get to use you, gorgeous. Could make me a lot of money."

Okay, that eighty percent sure had dropped to fifty, now that Sionis is talking in specifics. Making plans is very, _very_ bad.

So, Dick distracts him. He presses back into the next thrust and clenches down around Sionis, making the man groan, fingers tightening on his hips in a way that Dick knows will leave bruises.

 _"Fuck,_ just like that, sweetheart. Just like that."

It doesn't last long after that. Sionis reaches underneath him to jerk him off first, calloused hand stroking roughly in time with his thrusts, and Dick moans and shudders through his orgasm, feeling immediately exhausted afterwards.

Sionis' thrust speed up, brutal in their intensity, made all the worse now that Dick is coming down from his orgasm and hypersensitivity is crawling in. It makes Dick mewl and try to rock forward, try to move away from Sionis, but it's impossible, Sionis crowding impossibly close, until all Dick can feel and smell is Roman Sionis, just the way the man wants it.

When Sionis comes, he comes with a low, guttural groan, grinding his hips forward to push inside of Dick as deep as he can go. Dick feels the warmth bloom inside of him and bites his lip against the urge to cringe. He doesn't know what he would do if he was dating someone right now—Sionis _never_ uses a condom; despite all the jokes he makes about Dick sleeping around, he seems very confident that he's not going to catch anything.

Sionis remains where he is for a few moments, draped over Dick's body and teeth scraping lightly across the nape of Dick's neck, before slowly standing up. He pulls out of Dick extremely slowly, and the instant his cock is out his fingers are replacing it, shoving inside of Dick and stopping any cum from escaping before it even gets the chance.

Sionis pushes his fingers in all the way to the knuckle, and then slowly draws them out until only the tips are inside, before pushing in again. He does this over and over again, steadily picking up the pace, and Dick whimpers and whines, shaking, nails digging into the edge of the desk.

Eventually Sionis removes his fingers, but something else takes its place right away, something metal and rigid.

"Look at how easily your hole sucks in my stapler," Sionis coos, voice lined with amusement, and Dick feels humiliation burn through him. A _stapler._ Sionis put a fucking _stapler_ inside of him.

"I—" Dick tries, voice coming out hoarse. "Mr...Mr. Sionis—"

"Oh hush, it's only temperary," Sionis says dismissively. Dick feels him step back. "Come on, stand up."

Dick pushes himself up onto his forearms and then into a standing position, grimacing; his ass hurts from how rough Sionis was, and the stapler feels unnatural, forceful where flesh would give.

"Come with me, sweetheart," Sionis says, and grabs his arm, pulling him around the desk towards the other side. Dick waddles along awkwardly and then all but collapses on Sionis when the man sits down in his chair and tugs Dick closer. In one smooth motion Sionis yanks out the stapler and replaces it with his cock, settling Dick on his lap.

Dick gasps for air, dizzy and oversensitive. His head tips back against Sionis' shoulder as he tries to get his bearings.

When Dick starts to shift away from Sionis' chest, the man pushes back against his sternum, forcing him back into place.

"Sh, sh, shh, settle, baby, settle. It's only midnight, isn't your shift supposed to go until three?"

Dick blinks, not understanding. "I..."

"It's alright if you don't want to finish the night out there," Sionis says. He taps on his laptop's spacebar to light it back up, and picks up his pen in his other hand. When he shifts, he slides even deeper inside of Dick. "But you owe me three hours."


End file.
